Validation
by basterd
Summary: Short stories about the life and times. Will contain consensual aggression.
1. Tear

[AN: Oh, I don't know. These things just come out.]

* * *

Vyv is drunk. He's usually quite sweet when he's drunk, it's when he's sober that the aggression becomes focalised. He likes to be precise. It's the medical student in him. But tonight. Tonight is different.

'Sometimes I want to tear your skin off,' Vyvyan murmurs into Rick's shoulder. It shouldn't be a turn on. It shouldn't. It's not. He shouldn't want that. (He does.)

Rick can't speak and so he nods. He can't speak because Vyv's fingernails, bitten to a point, are digging into his hips. Scratching and digging, scratching and digging. His grip is getting so tight.

'Just a bit. Not all of it.'

Vyvyan is rubbing his face against Rick's cheek and that's his only reminder of Vyvyan's state of equilibrium. Vyvyan does affection in other ways. Rick likes those ways, but he likes this, too. He wants to fist his hand in Vyv's hair but that would actually get him killed, and Vyv's not wearing a shirt, so he settles for grabbing hold of Vyvyan's belt loops. Just something to ground him. Vyv's fingernails are so sharp.

'Just a bit. So I can have it with me.'

It's probably the sweetest thing Vyv's ever said to him but he can't think because there's blood welling up from his hips and teeth on his chest and he wants to look but one of his eyes is still mostly swollen shut and the other one has black dancing across the vision.

'That's disgusting,' Rick gasps.

'Yeah.' Vyvyan's lips come to rest on Rick's jaw, just briefly, like some sort of approval. 'Maybe I'll just take one of your teeth.'

There's cold metal at Rick's mouth, and he knows what it is, knows he shouldn't open up for it, but God help him.

'Bite,' Vyvyan commands, and Rick does.


	2. Days

[AN: Let's pretend that Rick's parents didn't die.]

* * *

The day that Rick receives his bachelor, Vyvyan grudgingly comes along to sit in the crowd beside Rick's parents, slumped low in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. He doesn't clap, but he can't quite maintain his annoyed expression throughout the whole presentation. The cigarette he smokes afterwards reveals his nerves over the subject, and when they go out for dinner with Rick's parents afterwards, his arm progresses from Rick's knee under the table, to across the back of his chair, to draped over Rick's shoulders. He drinks as many pints as Rick's father's money will buy, which is a lot, and by the end of the night he's got his eyes closed but his fingers scratching through the short, stubbly hair at the back of Rick's head. Rick's mum tells him to take his boy home and he thinks he beams more at that than when his dad shakes his hand and says he's proud of him. He sits in the back of a pre-paid cab with Vyvyan's head on his shoulder and thinks he's done it. This is what he always expected from life, but never truly thought he'd get. He did it. He got it.

The day that Vyvyan receives his bachelor, he refuses to wear the 'poncy dress' and they refuse him access to the stage, after which he marches on anyway and flips a proud v of his fingers to both the audience and the startled vice-chancellor that he snatches his certificate from. He then leaves immediately and Rick slinks away after him until they find themselves sitting on the low garden wall of a suburban house several blocks away. Rick steels his nerves and kisses him, and Vyvyan pushes him away with a rough hand on Rick's chest. He looks down at the fancy scroll in his hands and kicks his boots against the brick a few times, then says, 'sorry,' and, 'thanks,' and puts his hand over Rick's between them, just for a moment.


	3. Boy

[AN: The most out of character thing to ever exist.

Deals with transgender Rick. I am so, _so _sorry if this is offensive in any way. That is not my intention at all. Please tell me if there is anything at all offensive so I may amend/remove.]

* * *

Vyvyan doesn't mind. He doesn't mind that Rick's chest isn't exactly flat, or the curve of his waist, or the smoothness of his stomach. Vyvyan doesn't mind, and that's good. That should be all that Rick wants, he's happy with that. But. There's a what if. What if Vyvyan doesn't really get it? What if Vyvyan… if Vyvyan thinks of him as a girl? That's the thing he doesn't think he could take. There was a knot that formed in Rick's stomach the first time he had the thought, and it grew larger and harder until he realised it was no longer fear he was feeling, but dread. He thinks – in the darkest part of the night, when everything is quiet and he's too tired to lie to himself anymore – he thinks maybe he's just waiting for it, for the truth to come out. He thinks he expects it. He hates that he expects it.

They've never really talked about it, except for Rick's initial fumbling explanation cut short by Vyvyan's decisive, 'I don't care,' and strong hands on his hips. He shouldn't worry about it so much, he really shouldn't, except that he _does, _all the time, and he can't _stop. _He never really thought that Vyvyan _liked _boys, but Rick is a boy. Vyvyan needs to like him as a boy.

He just wants to know what Vyvyan's thinking, just so he can put it to rest at last. Just so he knows that when he starts the treatment, Vyvyan won't…

Rick can't think about this anymore. It's not a big deal. It is what it is. He just… hates it. The whole process of it. It's not fair. And then there's the other side of it, the part that feels guilty, not just for his own sake, but for Vyvyan's. Because if… if Vyvyan _does _like him as a boy, then… well, then he's screwing that up as well, isn't he? Vyvyan will want – should want – something…. that Rick's not. _Yet. _But he _will be. _Christ, he usually doesn't think about it this much.

Vyvyan's good, though. He treats Rick right. Not _well, _but right. How Rick wants. He doesn't hold back, he's not afraid to do anything to Rick. It's more of a relief than Rick knows how to process, and sometimes he needs those bruises all over him just to remember. Just to feel like who he really is. He bleeds from his mouth and his nose and his bones ache when he moves and it feels real. It feels like some sort of peace.

He's just so tired of people not seeing him as him. He's so tired of waiting for Vyvyan to turn into one of them.

* * *

'Poofs!' somebody yells. Rick stiffens, feeling mildly thrilled beneath the initial panic and abhorrence.

'Yeah!' Vyvyan yells back at them. 'I fuckin' am. You wanna go?'

'Yeah, mate. Come on!'

Vyvyan takes two hits to the nose before he gets the guy in a proper headlock, but then he's pushing the guy's face into the concrete and pressing the toe of his boot down on the guy's bollocks. Rick can hear Vyvyan's giggling over the guy's howling.

* * *

The hair grows on his stomach, first. Rick stares at it for a long, long time, and tries not to smile so much.

Vyvyan climbs into his bed at night and Rick lets him put his hand under Rick's shirt, doesn't try to keep them on the outside this time.

* * *

Rick is upstairs because he was banned from the living room for the duration of the party, but he can still get a bit of dancing and a short conversation in with the people who occasionally wander up in search of the toilet. He's bored and tired and waiting for them all to start going home when he hears the girls talking in the bathroom, through the wall of his room.

'He says he's got a boyfriend,' one of them says.

'Really? Do you think it's someone here?'

There's silence for a moment.

'I don't know. Maybe. '

'Ask him.'

'No. Come on, let's find Mike, instead.'

(Rick's nearly fallen asleep when the other two come up to the bathroom.

'You should just ask him,' says the girl.

'I did,' the guy replies. 'He said he had a boyfriend.')

* * *

The hair on his chin grows just before Christmas. Vyvyan gives him an unwrapped, used razor on Christmas day.

'For later.'

Rick doesn't think Vyvyan was talking about the cuts he put on Rick's shoulder with it under the safety of nightfall.

* * *

Rick goes to the wedding, and he doesn't know why. He supposes he misses having a family, sometimes. Then he sees them again and realises why he avoids all contact. He goes to the wedding, anyway, partly because he was so surprised that he got an invitation, and partly because he's never minded that cousin so much. Vyvyan refuses to come with him, and Rick doesn't push.

His aunt pushes the dress into his hands when he arrives at the house beforehand, and Rick feels a part of himself wither as he puts it on. He stays for the ceremony but doesn't last through the reception, trudging home without bothering to change. Vyvyan, uncharacteristically quiet, strips the dress off him and sits him down on the bed. When he disappears, Rick thinks it might be to dispose of it, and he thinks about telling Vyvyan that he really should give it back to his aunt before just thinking _fuck it._

He's lying back on the pillows when Vyvyan comes back in. Vyvyan is scowling, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. He looks mildly embarrassed and a dark sort of angry. Rick sits up and can't stop staring. It falls down to Vyvyan's knees, almost the same colour as his hair, only paler.

'They're fucking idiots,' Vyvyan says, and comes to flop onto the bed. His muscles remain stiff and he looks awkward where he lies. 'I look as fucking ridiculous as you did.'

Rick thinks it might be the strongest proclamation he'll ever hear. He kisses Vyvyan, hard, and Vyvyan bites back with ferocity.

* * *

He gets the operation. Vyvyan helps pay. Rick pays him back in other ways.

* * *

'When we started this,' Rick begins. He's been sitting in the middle of the empty living room for most of the morning, in the house they've just bought. Their house. Vyvyan's just finished night shift and he's looking rugged, dark circles under his eyes and scrubs crinkled. He didn't make it up the stairs to their mattress, just laid down on the ground with his head in Rick's lap, instead. Rick would say it's a sign of how tired he is, but age is mellowing Vyvyan out. Vyvyan has a soft side, now. 'Way back then,' Rick continues. 'Did you see me as a girl?'

'Why would I?' Vyvyan asks with his eyes closed.

The knot loosens, and Rick sets the old worry to rest.


	4. His

[AN: I'm a bit drunk. I don't know. Warnings for gore.]

* * *

Vyvyan pulls Rick's intestines out through his throat.

'You look so beautiful,' he says, and would stop, would berate himself for the slip of tongue, but Rick is still. Rick can't feel. Can't think. Can't be. He's gone. He's gone, and Vyv loves him for it. Call him a sick bastard, but this is what he loves the most. Rick's organs in his hands. He doesn't know if he wants to eat them or bury them or do something else. They're his, all his. Every part of Rick, every single organ, left to him by one single signature, coaxed out of Rick by a blowjob in the toilets.

Christ, but Rick had enjoyed it. Gladly traded in his life for that simple pleasure. Vyvyan wishes he'd given him more. He wants to give Rick all the pleasure in the world, in any and every way imaginable. He wants to give everything to Rick, for giving this to him.

Vyvyan reaches into the throat again, gaping wide, leaking sluggish blood from the edges. It was thin at first, but now it falls in thick clumps, blood clotted with flesh cells and other bodily functions. There's blood spread across Rick's face and he looks so goddamn gorgeous. Vyvyan's going to love him forever. For as long as he lives. He will never feel as adored as he does right now.

Rick worships him.

Did worship him.

Before this.

Before Vyvyan was holding Rick's heart in his hand, still, so utterly still. Vyvyan wants to show it to him, say, 'Look, this was yours, and now it is mine,' and have Rick smile that infuriating smile, or have him make some fruitless remark, and then to kiss him senseless. But that can't happen, now. That time of his life is over. He wants to let Rick experience this with him, hold his own heart in his hands. But he can't. He gave that privilege to Vyvyan.

'Fuck,' Vyvyan says, and jams his arm back down inside Rick, prying about his organs, tugging curiously at one of his ribs. He wants it. Wants it all. All of Rick, every single part of him, Vyvyan's to have and hold and do with as he pleases. It's almost like wedding vowels.

He wants to laugh, but Rick's heart is watching him from the table. He doesn't want to upset the heart. He'll do anything for the heart.

He wants it to beat, wills it, but it doesn't. It sits still. Vvyan slides his arm out of Rick, empty-handed, and stares. He wants Rick back. He wants the heart to beat. He wants to wait a bit longer for the goodness of these organs, wants to tell Rick how appreciative he is, to hold him down and fuck him and crush his head against the wall and let him know how happy Vyvyan is.

He doesn't want this.

He doesn't want Rick to be gone.

He wants him back.

'Wake up,' Vyvyan says lowly, and wraps his fingers around the two ends of Rick's throat, pressing them back together. 'Wake up. I command it. You pisshead, wake up.'

Rick's head lolls.

'Wake the fuck up,' Vyvyan says, and feels something he's never felt before.

Fear.

He's scared. He's unsure. He made a rash decision and he regrets it.

'Wake up.' He shoves the intestines back down into Rick, pushes the still heart in after it, the few bones that he tugged out to make room for his hand. He pushes it back and holds Rick's neck closed. He doesn't know what to do. This isn't right. It wasn't time. He wants him back.

'Fuck,' he says, and says it seventeen more times until he finds the stapler, in Rick's room of all places, in a drawer full of fliers and anti-fascist buttons. In a drawer stained with blood from Rick's gums, from his mouth pushed into the hard wood grain with Vyvyan's weight pushing against him from behind.

Vyvyan takes the stapler and presses it to the overlap of Rick's skin, staples until every point is fixed, until Rick's head only lolls so far as his neck lets it, instead of hanging by the narrow piece of flesh still connecting the two entities. He staples and then he holds Rick's face in both of his palms, looks into the blank, staring eyes, and grimaces. Contorts his features into a snarl. Shakes Rick's limp body like a ragdoll, like a wolf worrying it prey.

'Wake up,' Vyvyan commands, and Rick does nothing. 'I've put you back together. Wake up. Wake up. You fucking prick. I don't want to be alone, not just yet. Wake up.'

Rick's head twitches.

He coughs.

Vyvyan holds his head tighter and grins, waits until the pupils of Rick's eyeballs move, just a millimetre, just slightly, just enough for Vyvyan to know.

'I've held it,' Vyvyan says, and the blood on his hands smudges over Rick's face. 'You. All of you.'

Rick's eyes close. He smiles.


	5. Assorted

[AN: I've run out of ideas, so here are some scraps I once wrote and then abandoned because they were shit.]

* * *

It's when Rick's being strangled that he suddenly thinks, 'Oh god, I love you.' Vyvyan's got his thumbs pressed tight against Rick's jugular and Rick's got his own hands gripping over Vyvyan's. Not trying to pull them off, per se, although it gives him a thrill to tug slightly and feel Vyvyan press in just a little harder.

'Good,' Vyvyan breathes, throaty and soft, the closest he'll ever come to some sort of compliment. Rick's face is red already, but he's sure not all of that is down to lack of oxygen flow. Some is due to arousal, some… for other reasons. Pride. 'Are you going to pass out?'

He thinks he is. Either that, or he's going to come. He might do both. He nods, and the motion makes Vyvyan's fingernails dig into his skin. They might be drawing blood, or maybe it's the same blood trickling down from where Rick has bitten into his lip. Either way, it's heaven.

'Good,' Vyvyan growls again. It sends a warmth bubbling up through Rick's chest until his vision swims, and then there's nothing.

* * *

It's not something either of them intended to fall into. If Rick's being honest with himself, which only has vague implications to begin with, he can recognise that maybe he did think about this. Maybe part of him hoped, sometimes. Vyv is just… he's a constant. He's the only thing in Rick's life that has ever really stuck around. And he's funny, you know? He's clever, and he can hold his own. So maybe… maybe Rick thought about it, yeah, _occasionally_, but he never expected Vyv to reciprocate. That's not to be patronising, Rick's quite comfortable with who he is. They're just so different, and yet, when he thinks about it, maybe they're not. Whatever Vyvyan was thinking when he decided to take Rick on as his personal charge, and then some, Rick's bloody grateful for it. He'll not complain, ever. He'll not quite acknowledge it, either. It's just there, it's a thing, it's a constant, they don't need to talk about it.

* * *

'You bastard!' Rick cries. Vyvyan's got his face pressed down against the wood of the table, cornflakes crushed under his cheek and milk seeping into his shirt.

'Heavy, heavy, heavy,' Neil is chanting in a worried voice. The newspaper rustles as Mike idly flips the pages.

'You complete and utter bastard!'

'I am not!' Vyvyan protests, and his knees dig into Rick's calves, Rick's arm yanked up tight behind him. Rick reaches out with his free hand, trying to grasp any part of Vyvyan, anything that will enable him some leverage.

'You are! You know I called truce for breakfast time, it's in the People's Charter!'

'Yeah, but the first rule states than any rules made by Rick are invalid and must be ignored. Right, Mike?'

'That's right,' Mike says. 'But there's also one that says no stiff ones in the kitchen, which is why I've been absent the past three days.'

Vyvyan pushes heavily off Rick's back, putting a good two metres and a chair between them.

'I have not got a stiffy!'

'You have!' Rick turns and raises a triumphant finger in the air. 'I felt it! You've always got a stiffy for me, you _girl._'

'Aha! Well how can I be a girl if I've got a stiffy, then?'

'Because–' Rick stops abruptly. There's an odd silence around the room, just the slide of the newspaper pages and the steady dripping of milk from the table. Rick can feel the heat in his face and he busies himself with picking at his fingernails, feigning indifference and a touch of offence.

'I didn't know there was a People's Charter,' Neil eventually huffs. 'No one ever includes me in these things.'

* * *

Vyvyan will bite anywhere and everywhere. From Rick's ears to his throat, his arms and his sides and his thighs. Down right to his toes. He grips and doesn't let up. Bites hard. A creature, big and predatory, looming over Rick. Rick doesn't think he'll ever get enough of it. It's thrilling, the amount blood he's shared with Vyv, smeared over both of them. That's got to count for something, doesn't it? That there's so much of himself running through Vyvyan's veins. That's got to mean something.

'Such a girlie,' Vyvyan will murmur into Rick's skin, and he himself will shoot back with things like, 'piss off,' or, 'oh, very clever,' or sometimes nothing at all because he can't breathe. That's what Vyvyan does to him, with a punch in the face or hands around his throat or just the words that he says, the smell of his disgusting, sweaty skin and the warmth always radiating off him. He makes Rick not be able to breathe.

'Good.' Always with the goddamn _good. _Then he's biting again, over Rick shoulder and spine, pitching his hips forward. Rick's never connected with another person, not in this way. He doesn't mind being the… being in this position, because it's the only time that Vyvyan is honest to god trying to please him. He never feels as equal to Vyvyan as when they're in bed together, when Vyvyan's entire attention is solely on him, and his intentions shift over the thin line between inflicting pain and inflicting a different sort of pain. One so close to pleasure that Rick's not quite sure which it is, except the effect it has on him surely can't mean anything but pleasure. And when Vyvyan's voice gets soft and throaty, his face hovering so close to Rick's, his lips pressing dry along Rick's skin and Rick's mouth and then pressing damp after he licks them. He licks them a lot when they do this.

This thing that they do, that they don't talk about, just do. Rick needs this like air, craves it like validation. This is how he knows that he knows Vyvyan, and that this isn't convenience anymore. This isn't a short term thing, waiting for the right one to come along. This is the right one. This is it.

'I think you're the one for me.' Rick's voice is almost lost in the blankets, overshadowed by the sound of Vyv's breathing. The stars on Vyv's forehead are cold where they move on Rick's back, nodding.

'Yeah,' Vyvyan says.


	6. Control

[AN: I think these are getting more and more OOC, but oh well. I was just thinking about the final episode, where Vyvyan was crying about his car and the other two guys didn't know what to do, but straight away Rick was out there stealing that bus and sorting everything out. So. This dumb thing came about.]

* * *

The guy is on Rick, knee on his chest, hands pushing Rick's head into the gravel, and Vyvyan doesn't even think. Just grabs him and pushes with all his weight, until the guy's underneath him, until his face is so matted with blood that Vyvyan can't make out his features anymore, and Vyv's arm is still going, knuckles split, jolts of pain up his arm, but he can't stop. His fingers are twisted in the guy's collar and the head just lolls backward, shaking with the movement, and Vyv can't _stop. _He's trying, he _is, _but he's got Rick's expression in his mind, honest to god fear, and Vyv's blood is boiling. He can't see. There's black and there's red and he can't see a thing.

Then Rick's hands are on his shoulders, pulling him back, and it's only when the material drops from Vyvyan's fingers and he hears the clunk of the guy's head against the ground that Rick's voice starts to filter in, desperate, 'Vyvyan, stop. _Stop. _Vyvyan, _please. _Don't.'

'Sorry,' Vyvyan mutters, scrambling backwards on his knees. His sits heavily, raises the back of his hand to wipe at his nose. His voice sounds too small. He feels too small. He can't look, hangs his head between his knees instead and closes his eyes. 'Sorry, Rick.'

'It's okay.' Rick's hands are on his shoulders again, gripping tight. 'We'll sort it out. I'll sort it out.'

Then he's gone, and Vyvyan lifts his head to scan his surroundings, carefully skipping over the crumpled heap on the ground. When he doesn't see Rick anywhere, he falls onto his back, stares up at the sky and tries to breathe. _What have you done, what have you done, what have you done. _He wonders if Rick will come back.

Of course he will.

Won't he?

Vyvyan listens to his own breathing, stuttering in and out of his chest, and if he concentrates very hard, he can almost imagine it's the other guy's. Pretend, just for one second, that this didn't happen. Fuck, what is he going to do? He needs to… needs to tell someone… Let them know that Rick had nothing to do with it. Rick was completely innocent. It was just him, all him. He did it. He… oh god.

Vyv rolls onto his side, one arm bent up over his face, keens quietly, just once. He hears the roar of a motor and the crunching of gravel, but is still surprised when something touches his elbow.

'Come on, Vyv. Don't freak out now. Come and help me.'

Rick is looking down at him with a grim expression, something serious like Vyvyan's never seen before. His breathing is steady, even, shoulders held very straight. He looks in control and Vyvyan wonders where this side of him has been all these years. Wonders where it was when the panic in Rick's eyes drove Vyv to do this.

'Okay,' Vyvyan croaks.

There's a car hastily parked beside the body, boot open, and Rick's dragging some sort of quilt from it. He spreads it out carefully, tucks the edges underneath, then beckons Vyv over.

'On three,' he says, and Vyvyan nods slowly. Rick counts down and they both heft the guy up and into the car boot. Rick shuts it with a decisive click. 'It'll be fine,' he murmurs, and the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly. 'I know what to do. No one has to know.'

He guides Vyvyan to the front passenger seat, sits him down and shuts the door. Vyvyan rests his head against the window and tries to swallow past the beating of his heart in his throat.

Later - after Vyvyan has watched Rick carefully dissect the guy so they can pack him into the oil drum, after they've punctured holes in the sides and pushed it into the water, after they've watched it bob and let up a few bubbles of air before sinking into the dark depths - when they're sitting on the bonnet of the car that Rick has promised to get rid of later without elaborating, Rick turns his head and Vyvyan reluctantly meets his gaze.

'Hey,' Rick says. 'Thank you.'

'I couldn't let him—'

'Thank you,' Rick says again, louder.

For the briefest moment, imagining the shared blood on their hands, seeing the dilated pupils of Rick's eyes, Vyvyan almost thinks it's romantic.


	7. Drabbles

[AN: I feel like I'm just repeating the same OOC shit over and over again, but whatever. Here are some dumb drabbles that are mostly made up of the word 'and'.]

* * *

Neil doesn't understand it. Sometimes. Like, most of the time he does, because it's, like, really normal most of the time. But sometimes he doesn't understand.

Like when they agree with each other. And they laugh, not at each other, but together. And they look… happy. And Vyv doesn't hit anyone and Rick doesn't make any heavy remarks and they just sit there and look really pleased with themselves and be… generally… not them.

And, like, sometimes Vyvyan will shift over on the couch to make room for Rick, and won't even try to push him off or anything. Like, Neil knows that it's obviously some sort of prank, but Vyvyan's taking a long time to execute it. So he sort of understands that, but not really, because it's been four months and Vyvyan still moves over for Rick and nothing happens. Nothing but sitting and watching the telly. Most of the time.

And this one time, this one time when Neil was really sick, right, Rick made tea for Vyvyan, and Vyvyan drank it all and didn't even shout or anything. Well, not at Rick. He shouted at Neil, even though it's not even Neil's actual job to brew the tea and he just does that because he's a good guy, you know. Then Vyvyan threw the cup at his head and it really hurt, right, and Vyvyan and Rick just laughed and not even _at each other _and it was _weird._

And they get really, really strange sometimes, like Rick will touch Vyvyan's elbow, or Vyvyan will drive Rick somewhere in his car that no one's allowed to touch, and sometimes they don't even come home for hours and when they do, Rick's got a blood nose and that means that they were _together _because Rick never gets blood noses unless Vyvyan's behind it. Neil didn't actually think of that himself, Mike pointed it out, but Neil was the one who said it was all really weird in the first place, so he basically thought of it.

And once, like, Neil could deal with it all up until this point, but once, Rick came downstairs and he was wearing Vyvyan's t-shirt and that's the main thing that Neil doesn't understand, because when he tries to think about it his mind just gets all heavy.

So, most of the time, he understands it, but sometimes, he doesn't.

* * *

Once every six weeks, sometimes eight, sometimes more, when Mike and Neil are out, Vyvyan will grab Rick by the scruff of the neck and march him down into the kitchen, onto a chair, tilt his head forward and tell him to stay still. And Rick does, because he always takes Vyv's threats to heart, and last time the razor got just a little too close to one of his pigtails for his liking.

Rick can't remember how it first happened, just that it did. Vyv seemed angry that first time, but his hands were sure and Rick didn't bleed at all, not once. Vyv was never angry after that, but he never said anything, so Rick didn't, either.

Rick doesn't talk and he doesn't move, just sits with his head bowed while Vyvyan places one hand against his shoulder and, with the other, shaves slow and methodically. When he's done, he walks a slow circle around Rick to inspect that it's neat, which it always is, because Vyvyan has very precise hands. He has to, for what he wants to do. He's _very_ precise.

Then, sometimes, if Vyv determines it needs to be done, he'll lift Rick's head back up and not say a word, but cut jaggedly into his hair and run it through his fingers until it meets a satisfactory length.

Then Vyv will press his fingers against the back of Rick's neck and say, 'there', and leave, and Rick will stay put until the sensation in his skin dulls down.

Later, when Neil is in the kitchen complaining that the mysterious hair is back, Vyv and Rick will come down to taunt and make up stories, but until then, they don't talk about it. Not yet, not for now.

* * *

Rick washed Vyvyan's hair once. Not because he wanted to, but because Vyv was drunk. Well, past that, actually. Passed out, really, just about. And he had sick in his hair, and Rick wouldn't have cared except that Vyvyan would probably find it funny to scrape it all onto Rick in the morning, so Rick had to do it. But not because he wanted to. Seriously.

He didn't even strip him off or anything, so it wasn't _weird_, okay. He just put him in the bath and dunked his head under the water. And he only sat on the rim behind Vyvyan, with his feet in the water either side and Vyvyan's chin held up by one of his hands because he didn't want the stupid git to drown, and because Vyvyan is so bloody heavy because he's such a fat lump of lard. So that was the only reason Rick did that.

And he _had _to rub his fingers along Vyvyan's scalp because that was the only way to lather the shampoo up and get the disgusting vom out. And Vyv probably made that noise because he was sick, and he didn't even know that Rick was there, anyway, because his eyes were closed the whole time.

And Rick only touched Vyv's face because he didn't want soap going into his eyes, because then Vyv would probably wake up and smash him into a pulp, and he didn't want that. So he only did it because he _had _to, you see.

And then, well, _then, _and you have to understand the circumstances, he only stripped Vyvyan off in a very _not poofy way_, and he didn't even remove Vyv's underpants or anything because _he doesn't want to see that_, he only took his stupid clothes off because he was so wet and Rick didn't want to get soaked when he carried Vyv back to his room. Because he couldn't just leave Vyv there, he needed to use the bathroom later!

So he didn't care that Vyvyan was shivering or anything, he only stripped him down so Rick wouldn't get wet, and he only tucked that blanket around him because he wanted to cover up Vyvyan's ugly face.

And that only reason he ever did _any _of this was for his _own _wellbeing and definitely had nothing to do with Vyvyan at all, so there. That's what happened. That's all. And if he had trouble getting to sleep, it's only because he was worried that Vyvyan might realise what had happened and beat him up anyway. Not that there was anything _wrong _with what had happened, it's just… it's just that Vyvyan beats people up at the best of times without really needing a reason and, oh god, Rick doesn't want to talk about this anymore.


End file.
